


Record Store Day

by americanphancakes



Series: Howell's Records, Tapes, & CDs [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Crush at First Sight, Dan Howell Is Not A YouTuber, M/M, Martyn being a good brother, Meet-Cute, Romantic Comedy, Store Owner Dan Howell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25458793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanphancakes/pseuds/americanphancakes
Summary: Dan’s claimed a copy of one of the RSD exclusives available at the small indie record shop that he owns, but someone else wants the same record.Based on a prompt moodboard by midnight_radio.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Series: Howell's Records, Tapes, & CDs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844038
Comments: 36
Kudos: 74





	Record Store Day

**Author's Note:**

> See the moodboard [here](https://midnightradio.tumblr.com/post/622737781106556928/watercolor-life-washing-away).
> 
> Thanks to rawritsamehh, Bri, Liz, and olfrogbait for ALL volunteering to beta, and for just generally cheering me on and supporting me and enjoying the little snippets I gave them. :D
> 
> The release around which this narrative is centered does not exist. I made something up. :P

Three o’clock. AM, to be precise.

_ Three o’clock in the fucking morning. Who wakes up at this hour? Oh yeah. Me.  _

Dan Howell remembered a time, long ago now it seemed, when he wouldn’t have even been to sleep yet at this point. Of course, around that same era of his life, he’d been going to record stores to _ shop _ , not to open up and let his employees in so  _ other _ people could shop. Oh, how times change.

Of course, there were benefits to owning your own record store and literally getting there before anyone else. Record Store Day was today, and one of Dan’s favorite bands was releasing an exclusive live EP of songs recorded at a radio station in… Australia or Germany or somewhere, he forgot. But he DID remember the crap quality MP3 he’d heard of one song which had been completely reworked, and he needed that shit on vinyl  _ right now. _

The EP was limited to only 1500 copies worldwide. His shop had the honor of being allocated three.

Usually, Dan has a policy that no employee can hold things for themselves. You have to take it straight from the floor to the register, and you have to be off the clock when you do. That puts the Record Store Day shift people at a disadvantage, since they’re the ones starting up the POSs first thing in the morning. But it was a good policy to have. A massive frustration in his youth was limited edition releases vanishing from retail shelves before he even had a chance to get to the shop because they’d been snatched up by store employees & managers to be flipped online for profit. It was unfair and it was cruel to fans and customers who could pay the expensive-but-reasonable retail price but couldn’t possibly pay inflated eBay and Discogs prices without risking their ability to eat for the next two weeks.

So basically, he was a hypocrite. And he knew it. But he’d literally never held anything for himself before. In this case? It was  _ Muse. _ He  _ loved _ Muse. He loved Muse  _ live. _ And his shop got  _ three _ copies! There were  _ plenty _ of other releases that he only got one or two of. And still others that he didn’t get any copies of. What was the harm in hiding this  _ one _ thing from customers so he (a  _ real _ music fan with no reselling plans!) was guaranteed it? He’d paid his dues and missed out on hundreds of limited releases in his life -- he deserved this  _ one. _

Or so he figured, anyway.

***

At 3:45 AM, Dan arrived at the shop, Starbucks in hand because he was far too lazy to make his own coffee at this obscene time of day. Two people were asleep on the sidewalk, but they were kind enough to have set up camp to the side of the door so his path wasn’t blocked. He unlocked the rolling security shutters and pushed them up about halfway, just enough to unlock the store’s front glass door.

“Oh hello,” the man lying on the ground muttered.

Dan laughed. “Good morning. Go back to sleep, still two more hours ‘til we give out numbers.”

“Mmm-hmm,” the sleepy man muttered, and did just that.

The front door now unlocked, Dan walked into the shop and locked the door behind him. He turned on one set of lights -- just enough to see, not enough to signal that he was open -- and set to work finishing the RSD display.

The Record Store Day numbered-ticket process at Howell's had been carefully refined over the years. The shop's original first-come-first-served policy had only resulted in impromptu shop floor wrestling matches and merchandise literally being snapped in half, which was a lesson Dan only had to learn once.

After putting his hoodie into his assigned cubby under the Customer Service counter, and polishing off his coffee, he sat on the floor with the dozens of cardboard boxes with “do not display before Record Store Day” stickers and stamps all over them, cutting their tape and fishing out the records, then alphabetizing them by artist on the floor before putting them on display.

Dan sliced open a box from Warner Music UK’s manufacturing arm, recognizing the record label as Muse’s. He smiled as he lifted the box flaps. Stored vertically inside were dozens of records, and about two-thirds of the way back, Dan found what he was looking for. He pulled up one copy and smiled.

“Oh, baby,” Dan said, shaking his head in disbelief at the sheer beauty of this thirty centimeter square. “I can not  _ wait _ to take you home with me.”

As Dan gazed lovingly at Matt Bellamy's blurry face, his longest-running employee, Chris, walked in. Dan was too distracted to greet him.

“Oi,” Chris said, glancing at Dan as he rushed over to the Customer Service counter. "You talking to yourself again?"

"No," Dan said defensively. "I was talking to the records."

"Not sure how you think that makes you sound  _ less _ crazy, but alright."

Dan scoffed and stood up, carrying one copy of the Muse EP with him, and wandered toward the counter.

“How’s the stocking going?” Chris asked.

“It’s going,” Dan said. “I’m alphabetising everything on the floor first so I know how much space everything needs.”

“Clever.”

“You got the spool of tickets, yeah?” Dan asked, tapping the record absentmindedly.

“Yeah, in my bag…” Chris looked at Dan side-eyed. “Are you reserving a record for yourself?”

Dan just shrugged as he slid the record into the compartment with his other belongings.

“You realize according to  _ your own _ rules, you’re not supposed to do that.”

“I’m your boss, how dare you question me.”

Chris chortled. “Fine then, when this store goes under I’ll start my own record store, with blackjack and hookers! Of all genders!”

“That’s smart business, not limiting your clientele like that.”

“I won’t let you in, either. I’ll be a  _ real _ prick about it.”

“Sure you will.” Dan patted Chris on the shoulder and migrated to the RSD display, where he continued his work.

***

Phil Lester was, to put it mildly, a very big Muse fan. When he learned his favorite band was releasing a new live EP that was exclusive to indie shops participating in Record Store Day, he initially pouted, certain RSD wasn’t for him.

He mentioned the release to his brother, Martyn. Martyn was a DJ who loved playing particularly esoteric dance tracks during his sets. Since he wanted to go to Howell’s for some new wax to spin anyway, he agreed to let Phil spend the night over at his the night before and drive them both to the shop in the morning.

Phil may or may not have squealed and flung his arms around his brother for a very excited hug.

Now, however, it was 4:00 in the morning and Phil was considerably less excited about getting out of bed. Or out of couch, as it were. This blanket was comfy and no amount of his-brother-tickling-his-nose was going to get him out from under it.

“Phi-il…” Martyn sang softly. “Phil? Phiiiiilll….”

Phil responded by twitching his nose and rolling over.

_ BANG BANG BANG! _

“PHIL!!” Martyn yelled.

“Aah! What!?” Phil cried, his eyes open very wide to see Martyn standing over him with a frying pan and a wooden spoon.

“Wake up, you git! You got a Muse EP to buy!”

Phil wiped the sleep out of his eyes. “Fine, oh my god, Martyn, jeez…”

***

When they arrived, the brothers Lester were feeling ever so slightly discouraged.

“Look at the queue,” Martyn said, his voice colored by how impressed he was that this little record shop had such a great turnout.

“It’s only 4:30,” Phil said, his voice far more discouraged-sounding. “How are there already people wrapping around the side of the shop?”

“I have to admit, I figured getting here by five was safe… next time, I may wake up earlier.”

“Who wakes up earlier than 4 AM?” Phil whined as they took their place at the back of the line.

“That guy sleeping at the front of the shop, apparently.”

Phil narrowed his eyes, his mouth pinched. “Sleeping guy is gonna get my Muse record, I know it.”

Martyn chuckled, amused by Phil’s paranoia. Surely it wasn’t going to be that hard to get it. “How many copies of it are there? Do you know?”

“1500,” Phil sighed.

“What, in the UK?”

“In the world.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah. And I called this shop and the guy said they’d be carrying it, but they said they couldn’t hold records for anyone until they came into the shop personally.”

“Did you ask how many copies they’d have?”

“Yeah. He said three.”

Martyn looked at the line again. “Yikes.”

***

By 5:15 AM, Dan’s legs had lost circulation from all the floor sitting. Chris had to help him up, which resulted in cartoonish clumsiness and plenty of near-faceplants for them both.

At 5:30, Chris was outside counting the number of people while Dan filed the records.

At 5:45, Dan’s newest employee PJ arrived. His shift didn’t start until 6, but he was still in the “trying to make himself look good” phase of his employment.

At 6:00, Chris went back outside with the numbered tickets and handed them out to the crowd of people with knit hats on their heads, hands in their pockets, and impatience in their toes.

***

Phil took his ticket from the shaggy-haired, unkempt-looking shop employee.

“42,” he read aloud. “You got 43, then?”

Martyn nodded. By now both their noses were turning a bit pink.

“Shoulda brought a muffler,” Martyn mumbled.

***

Dan looked at the clock. 6:59:58. 6:59:59.

7:00 AM on the dot.

Chris turned on the floor lights, and a warm pink glow filled the shop. Dan turned on the store’s logo sign and hit play on the shop’s stereo. As the sweet sounds of Dan’s Radiohead playlist blasted over the shop’s PA system, PJ pushed the security gate the whole way up and opened the door.

Howell Records, Tapes, and CDs was officially open for business.

***

Chris was on the till while PJ ran the most rudimentary security ever, calling people in 10 at a time, putting his hand up and shaking his head (not at all threateningly, despite his attempts) should an 11th decide to sneak past. Since the shop didn’t have a proper inventory system, Chris’s job was to let Dan know (via Discord since that was the only messaging app they all used) what records each customer purchased and how many. That way Dan could check them against the shipping manifests for RSD, then subtract the items from their New Stock inventory spreadsheet at the end of the day.

(The used records were even harder to manage, since those were purchased in bulk, often sight unseen, and the manifests for those had no more specific data than “Records, 7”, 10kg”. They really needed to upgrade their inventory management.)

Dan enjoyed the moments between inventory checklist updates when he could watch people eagerly fidget while waiting for their turn to look at the records available. After getting their RSD items, they’d head onto the main shop floor to dig through crates and explore Howell’s unpredictably diverse and ever-changing offerings. This was Dan’s favorite thing. He loved watching the focused expressions on people’s faces as they browsed, and seeing them arrive at the till excited to have found some hard-to-find remix LP by an artist he’d never even heard of.

Which made it all the more annoying that a group of about 9 people had come, apparently together, and each bought 3 records knowing Howell’s 3-per-customer RSD policy. He’d seen this before. Resellers, all of them. Or, most probably, one or two resellers and a bunch of friends. Resellers know that most shops participating in RSD have purchase limits, so they’d brought people in as early as possible to help them snatch up some of the more valuable and popular releases. Not surprisingly, by the time that group had left, both the remaining copies of the Muse EP were sold. 

In a perfect world, Dan could have kicked them all out of the store. But unfortunately, he couldn’t prove they really were all flipping their records, and if a single one of those people had been a legitimate customer it would have been shitty to toss them out (and would have hurt the store’s online reviews for sure). So he had to let them get away with it. 

His mood soured with the knowledge that he’d see records from his shop on the Discogs marketplace that night when he got home.

***

“40 through 49!” the shop employee called out to the crowd.

Phil practically danced his way to the front door out of a combination of excitement, cold, and anxiety that the record would be gone already.

“Please be there, please be there,” he muttered under his breath.

Martyn patted Phil on the shoulder as soon as they got through the door. “I’m not really interested in any of the special edition stuff,” he said, “so I’m gonna head over to their dance records. You good?”

Phil nodded, and his brother went on his way. It hadn’t really occurred to Phil that Martyn wouldn’t want any of the RSD exclusives after spending hours waiting with him out front. Phil smiled, grateful for his brother. But also sort of feeling like if the record wasn’t available, the guilt would eat him alive.

“Please be there,” Phil continued muttering as he approached the RSD display. “Please please please be there!”

As you already know, dear reader, it wasn’t there.

***

“Um, excuse me?” a meek voice asked, just loud enough to be heard over the sound system.

“What?” Dan replied, not even looking up from the manifest.

“Sorry, but, um… is the Muse live EP sold out?”

“If it’s not on the floor, we don’t got any more,” Dan sing-songed, flatly and clearly sick of saying it and resenting himself for writing the rhyme in the first place.

“Oh,” the customer said, the legitimate sadness apparent in his voice.

Dan finally rocked his head up. He first saw the customer’s hand, resting on the counter gently. Then the black hoodie with tightly-cropped artwork of an anime-style character on it. And then the customer's face. 

Oh god, what a face. What a lovely, sweet face. He had light eyes that looked almost violet under the pink light of the store, pale skin with a light dusting of freckles, pink lips that would be so kissable if the lower one weren't caught between his teeth at that moment, and a slender neck with a defined Adam's apple that was simply _begging_ to be marked up with lovebites.  


Dan coughed to bring himself back to reality and sat up a bit straighter.

Now that he wasn't being a perverted creeper, he noticed how sad this guy looked. He was looking off to the side, toward the RSD display. He wasn’t holding any other records. He’d only come for this one. It was an experience Dan was no stranger to, and it sucked every time it happened. His stomach tightened out of… sympathy? Sure, we’ll go with sympathy. Certainly not guilt! After all, he had nothing to feel guilty about. Of course, the guy’d probably been outside in the cold for hours waiting. He didn’t deserve for those fucking resellers to come in and take that record away from him, and he certainly didn’t deserve a greedy shop owner hiding this record while sitting pretty inside the nice warm shop while  _ he _ was freezing his nuts off outsi--

Oh, fuck’s sake. He was gonna give this guy his record.

His stomach tightened again.

Another man -- with lighter hair and a rounder face, but definitely a relative, if his similar facial features is anything to judge -- walked up just then with a stack of records in generic white & black sleeves.

“Hey, Phil!” he said.

“Hey, Martyn,” the customer -- Phil -- sighed.

“You ready to check ou-- oh, no Muse record?”

Phil shook his head. “I guess other people snatched it up before I could get to it.”

“I’m sorry,” Martyn said sadly. “It’s okay though. It happens with these limited releases. Maybe we’ll find it online later? It’ll be more expensive but I don’t mind helping you if I need to.”

Dan gritted his teeth at the thought of those  _ fucking _ flippers getting a ridiculous profit just for waking up half an hour earlier than a nice guy like this.

“I know,” Phil continued. He looked like he might  _ actually _ be about to cry. “I just feel bad ‘cause you got me up so early for this, and you were nice enough to drive me over, and it ended up being for nothing.”

“Er… not necessarily,” Dan cut in before he could stop himself.

The two customers looked over at him.

“Um, there’s one copy back here being held for a customer who claimed it,” he said, manufacturing the most believable lie he could think of. “They have until, er… 9 o’clock to come back and actually pay for it, and if they don’t then they forfeit it. So… no promises, but… maybe come back in an hour? If it’s still here, it’s yours.”

Of course, Dan knew it would still be there. He was so full of shit.

But the bit of hope restored to this adorable customer’s face was worth it. And if Dan was honest with himself, he really did want to see the customer’s face again.

“Your chances are pretty good,” he added, for good measure.

“Okay!” Phil said, looking ever so slightly relieved that this was possible. “Um, yeah, I’ll see you in an hour then? Is that okay, Martyn? Do you mind staying round the area?”

“No, no problem!” Martyn said cheerfully. “Let me go pay for these, and then we’ll go get breakfast and come back after, yeah?”

“I can take care of your purchase here,” Dan said, reaching out for Martyn’s stack of records. “I feel bad making you guys stand in the proper line after everything else.”

“Thank you!” Martyn said.

After Dan got them all squared away and the records all bagged up, Phil and Martyn headed off, and Dan was left behind the counter, alone with the Muse EP hiding on the shelf by his knee.

“Farewell, friend,” he said under his breath, stroking the cover of the record with his fingertips. “Hardly knew ye, and all that.” He sighed and looked around the store, not at anything in particular, but looking for something to take his mind of the sacrifice he was about to make for a cute, sad boy who he’d probably never see after 9:00 in the morning today. “God dammit,” he sighed.

***

Martyn and Phil took their seats at an American-style diner not far from Howell’s. Phil tapped his straw on the table repeatedly, constantly fidgeting in his seat, biting his lower lip and looking distantly in the general direction of the record shop.

“Phil, you’re gonna show up on one of those earthquake meter things if you keep doing that,” Martyn laughed.

“Seismograph,” Phil muttered. He put the straw down and sighed. “And I know, I’m just worried I guess. ‘Cause like, what if that customer  _ does _ come back?”

“If they do, there’s nothing to be done. At least not at the shop. Like I said, if we need to get it online later, we’ll do that.”

“If it shows up online later it’ll be so expensive though. Like, hundreds of pounds probably!”

Martyn shifted uncomfortably. “I mean… that’s not ideal, obviously. But, y’know. I could just force you to do my dishes for a while to pay off my part of it.”

“You’d really do that?”

“‘Course. Anyone who knows you could tell this was clearly really important to you. When was the last time you were even  _ remotely _ willing to wake up before ten?”

Phil laughed. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Don’t worry, mate. One way or another, you’re getting that record.”

“Thanks.”

Phil couldn’t stop tapping though.

“Y’alright there?”

“Yeah, um. Just. The um.” Phil made the exact sort of face you use to communicate  _ ‘no big deal’ _ but which fails to communicate precisely that. “The guy.”

Martyn tilted his head forward in confusion. “The guy?”

“At, uh. At the shop. The guy at the shop.” Phil shrugged. “Kinda cute.”

Martyn chuckled. “D’you fancy the record shop employee?”

“Don’t make a big thing of it!” Phil said, making a big thing of it.

“I’m not! I’m just saying, like… Oh-ho, retail employee, moving up in the world, eh?”

“Okay first of all, don’t judge, he’s clearly a responsible hardworking person. Besides, I’m single, anything is moving up in the world.” Phil sighed, coming back down to his sad lonely real life here on earth. “Probably straight anyway.”

“That’s the spirit, I guess?”

Phil punched him (lightly) on the shoulder.

***

At 8:55, Dan heard the bells of the shop door. Unfortunately, he couldn’t look to see if it was the cute Muse guy because he was dealing with a customer who was angry about the three item limit.

“It says three items,” the middle-age man grumbled. “It doesn’t say anything about how many of each item.”

“‘Item’ doesn’t mean ‘release,’” Dan insisted. “It means ‘thing.’ Or did you miss basic grammar school vocabulary lessons? You’ve got four things. That’s four items. Put one back, or put them all back and leave.”

The customer theatrically dropped them all on the floor. “You’ve just lost a customer for life,” he spat and marched out the door, pushing past -- yup, Phil the cute Muse fan and his brother.

“Good!” Dan just-as-theatrically called out. He sighed and bent down to pick up the records and walked past Phil and his brother (Martyn, was it?) to hand them to PJ for restocking.

“You okay there?” Martyn asked him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Fuck that guy, we don’t need him. Anyway, come on.” He gave Phil a flirtatious wink (hoping he noticed it, but internally panicking about it looking more like an awkward twitch) and motioned for the two to follow him to the customer service counter.

Phil looked optimistic, but like he was trying to tone it down.

Dan stepped behind the counter and, mentally saying his farewells, he drew out the Muse live EP.

And the look on Phil’s face… Dan had already thought he was pretty fit, but now suddenly with that bright smile and those wide, shining blue eyes, he was absolutely  _ breathtakingly _ beautiful. The joy that radiated from him was heartbreakingly contagious.

“Thank you so much!” Phil exclaimed, taking the record from his Dan’s outstretched hand. “I honestly didn’t think this would work out, but here it is! I’ve got it! Martyn, I’ve  _ actually _ got it!”

...And there it was. The guilt. Dan’s chest clenched yet again, and he couldn’t excuse it this time.

“Look… I have to confess something,” Dan said apprehensively.

“Hm?”

“There, er…" Dan sighed and shook his head. "God, this is embarrassing. Look, I'm sorry, I lied. There was no other customer. I was holding a copy for myself, and I shouldn't have done that. It's just that I really love Muse, and I  _ knew _ resellers were gonna want to buy this 'cause like why did they only release 1500 when Muse is so popular like how stupid is that? It's like they don't even want  _ actual _ Muse fans to have it unless they're super rich and even then it's not like honest shop owners or real music fans benefit, it's just rich people and dishonest resellers and you know what, those rich people won't even spin it! They'll just leave it in the plastic which pisses me off because like that's the  _ whole point _ of vinyl is that it sounds good and it's like a tactile experience to spin it so fucking  _ spin _ the fucking things!"

Dan realized he'd been nervously, angrily rambling and finally stopped. Phil was just watching him with wide eyes.

"Sorry," Dan said.

"You… erm. You can have it," Phil said, stiffly pushing the record forward towards Dan.

"No," Dan said with a defeated sigh. "I have a policy here that employees aren’t allowed to hold records for themselves because they’d keep them away from actual music fans like you. Besides, I made you wait an hour and come back for no reason. I knew this would still be here, obviously. I shouldn't have done that. I’m sorry.”

“No, really. You should buy it. My brother said he could help me get one online instead if--"

"No, no, you'll end up getting it from one of those  _ fucking _ resellers. It’ll cost you a fortune."

"It's okay, really!"

"No, I insist you take it," Dan said, putting his hands up in front of himself, giving an air of finality to the statement. "I’ll buy it from somewhere else. I mean, I have connections. I can probably get a decent price on it."

Martyn, watching the kindest fight ever from the sidelines, suddenly spoke up. "I have an idea! It's crazy, but hear me out... You two could split this one."

"Yeah," Dan said with a sarcastic chuckle, "I've seen customers split a record before. It's why we have numbered tickets now."

"What, literally?" Phil muttered.

Dan nodded.

"No," Martyn said, amused by the story but also a bit impatient with it. "I just mean each of you pays for half of it."

"Yeah, I get that," Dan said incredulously, "but where would it live?"

Phil looked a bit stumped, but then his face did the equivalent of a light bulb turning on above his head. "Joint custody! We could pass it back and forth."

Dan was laughing before Phil even finished speaking. "What, you take it for half the year, I take it for the other half?" he asked.

"Exactly!” Martyn said. “Or you could switch off each week or month or whatever you fancy. Up to you, really.”

Dan folded his arms and shook his head. "I don't know. I feel like I’d be such a bother asking you for my turn when it came up."

"Well… Would  _ I _ be a bother to you when asking for  _ my _ turn?” Phil asked.

“No,” Dan admitted, “I suppose not. You do have good taste in music. Admittedly, we’d probably get on great.”

Phil smiled. Martyn elbowed him playfully for reasons Dan wasn’t entirely certain of.

“Alright,” Dan finally said. “Fuck it. Let’s do this.” Dan took his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Phil. He motioned for Phil to give him his. They put their numbers into each other's phones, and then traded back.

“You take custody of it first,” Dan said. “I’m at work and I can’t enjoy it today anyway. You spin it to your heart’s content.”

“Okay! Um… when do you want your turn with it?”

“Not to be greedy, but… d’you think I could come get it tonight? I’d be happy to bring it back tomorrow, it’s just…”

“You were excited to hear it,” Phil said with a pleasant smile. “No, no, I completely understand, honestly.”

Dan smiled back at him. “Okay.”

“Okay!”

Phil handed the record over to Dan, and while Dan was focused on getting the purchase started, Martyn elbowed Phil again.

"What time are you off?" Phil asked.

"Whenever I want," Dan said nonchalantly.

It was only then that Phil looked down at his phone with the intent to check his calendar for the day, and he saw Dan's name. "Wait, ‘Howell’?” he said. “Your name’s Dan Howell."

"Yep," Dan nodded.

"So what is this like your dad's store or something?"

Dan snorted at the idea. "Fuck no. My dad practically disowned me when I opened this place."

"It's yours!?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, wow."

"So what time do you want me to come over?" Dan asked, handing Phil enough cash to cover half the record.

"Um… would 6:30 work?"

"Sounds perfect."

Phil cleared his throat. “That’s… y’know. That’s sort of dinner time, so… do you maybe want dinner when you come over?”

“Dinner?” Dan said, looking at Phil and blinking like a deer in headlights. His brain sort of stopped working.  _ Cute. Muse fan. Dinner. Equals date? Uncertain. Ask again later. _

“Yeah, I'll cook!" Phil volunteered excitedly.

Dan made a resigned sort of face and shook his head while he rang up the purchase. "I'm vegan, you probably don't want to cook for me."

"Shows what you know,” Phil said confidently. “I'm making a vegetarian stir fry tonight!"

Dan studied Phil’s face, then smirked knowingly. "You're not really, are you?"

"If you say yes to dinner then I am."

The two young men stared at each other for a moment. It was then that Dan noticed how much Phil had to be blushing if it was noticeable even under the pink lights of the shop.

"If, hypothetically, I were to say yes," Dan asked, "would it be a date?"

"Do you… want it to be a date?"

Dan shrugged. "Maybe?"

Phil smiled a tiny, cautious smile. "Then… maybe yes."

**Author's Note:**

> [@americanphancakes](https://americanphancakes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
